


life's a beach

by bellafarallones



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alligators & Crocodiles, Autistic Indrid Cold (The Adventure Zone), Beaches, Fluff, Hot Tub, Hurricanes & Typhoons, M/M, Trans Duck Newton, True Love, Vacation, au where amnesty lodge is in florida
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-28 19:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30144141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellafarallones/pseuds/bellafarallones
Summary: Duck's on vacation in a Florida beach town, and Indrid owns a very strange beachside souvenir store. This might just be meant to be.
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thank u to everyone in the indruck discord who talked about this au with me!!

Even the sound of the wind through the trees was different in Florida, stiff palm fronds clattering together rather than the whisper of deciduous leaves. It said something about Duck Newton that even as he strolled past restaurants and beachside souvenir stores, women in bikinis and shirtless men, he was thinking about leaves. 

The snap of a rainbow flag in the wind brought him back to the present. This shop’s front window was not hung with t-shirts like those of its neighbors, but lovingly painted in a mural of an old-timey sailing ship, intricate rigging and black cannon-holes like the eyes of an insect. The faded sign above the door read COLD EMPORIUM. The hand-lettered OPEN sign hanging on the door was surrounded by a constellation of stickers, including gay and trans pride flags.

Duck pushed the door open. The store was empty except for the cashier sitting on a tall stool behind the counter. “Good morning!” said the cashier cheerfully. He was wearing a neon pink sweatshirt, despite the fact that it was about ninety degrees outside, and opaque red sunglasses bound to his head by a yellow cord. His hair was artificially silver, dark brown at the roots. 

“G’morning.” Duck looked around. There was a display of sunblock right inside the front door, and a round rack of beach towels in various colors, and a refrigerator case with water and soda, as well as some less-expected things, like cartons of eggnog and bottles of pink and red Ramune.

The cashier had come out from behind the counter to stand near Duck’s shoulder, revealing that he was almost alarmingly tall, probably six foot three. And he was wearing tropical board shorts that clashed horribly with the pink sweatshirt. 

“Eggnog?” said Duck quietly.

“It’s locally made,” said the cashier. “Do you know Amnesty Lodge?”

“Yeah! I’m staying there, actually.”

“It’s a great place. Anyway, the cook there is a friend of mine, he makes it for me.”

“Are you the owner? Of the, uh, Cold Emporium?”

“I am! Indrid Cold, at your service.” He stuck out his hand, and Duck shook it. 

“Uh. I’m Duck. It’s a nickname.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Indrid’s grin would have made the Cheshire cat proud. At that moment, however, a woman and three small, squalling children walked in, and Indrid turned back to help her find whatever she was looking for. 

Duck retreated further into the store. There were Zoobooks posters and a stack of calendars that Duck thought looked retro even before he realized they actually were for years in the seventies and eighties; a whole shelf of different beach-themed stim toys; and a huge, deep tray of shiny rocks with a rack of drawstring bags hanging over it. 

And then, in the very back, in yellowed plastic wrap, was a kit promising the most beautiful model ship Duck had ever seen: a red-and-yellow Mississippi riverboat with a paddlewheel and real glass in the windows. The price marked on the sticker was $3. 

The store was quiet again, and Duck picked up the box and carried it back to the front where Indrid had resumed his position behind the cash register. “Is this really only three dollars?”

“Indeed.”

“Where did you get it?”

“At a flea market up in Jacksonville in, oh, 2004, if I remember correctly.”

Duck looked up at him. “You might be able to get a lot more for this than three dollars if you put it up on Ebay.”

Indrid raised his eyebrows. “It would have been cleverer of you not to tell me that, buy it for the three dollars, and go into the craft-supply resale market yourself.”

Duck looked up at Indrid and then down at the box. “...Can I buy it, then?” He wasn’t going to resell it, anyway. He wanted to put it together. 

“Sure!” Indrid pressed a button that caused the cash register, which also appeared to be from 1974, to make a very loud noise and spit out a drawer of bills. “That’ll be three dollars, please.”

Duck dug his wallet out. “Can you give me change for a five?”

“Of course,” said Indrid, and exchanged Duck’s five for a crisp two-dollar bill. Then he rested his elbow on the counter and his chin resting on his palm, looking up at Duck. The sunglasses made his expression impossible to read.

“Hey, uh, I was just about to have lunch, and I was wondering,” Duck started. Indrid’s mouth opened in a little surprised O, and Duck lost his nerve. What was he thinking, hitting on someone who was at work? “I was wondering if you could tell me if there’s anyplace around here I should try?”

“Oh!” Indrid sat up straighter. “Hunan Kitchen is in the basement underneath that bookstore with the mermaid out front, the sign’s easy to miss, but the food is delicious and the price is the fairest you’re going to get around here.” He flashed another smile. “Not that you heard that from me, of course.”

Duck laughed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Come back anytime!” And then, when the door had shut behind him, Indrid cracked open a carton of eggnog and murmured to himself. “Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go.”

\--

When Duck had first picked up the model ship, Indrid could not immediately remember why he’d bought it, or why he’d been keeping it around all these years. It didn’t particularly interest him, like the smooth rocks and eggnog did, or his usual customers, like the sunscreen and beach towels. 

And then, later that night, when he was lying in bed mulling over the averted futures in which Duck had asked him out on the spot, his eyes snapped open beneath his glasses.  _ Now  _ he remembered.

He’d been at an outdoor flea market, sweltering, with muddy grass beneath his feet and swarms of insects around his head. He’d been drawn to one table in particular by the glint of glass on ships in bottles, and when his fingers brushed the cellophane on the steamboat kit, he’d almost been bowled over by the strength of the vision that hit him. 

This model boat would one day belong to the love of his life. He couldn’t see a face, or a name, but he heard a warm voice and felt warm lips against his that he would never want to stop kissing.

At that flea market in Jacksonville, Indrid had snatched his hand away and managed to choke out two words. “How much?”

Now he knew who that voice and those lips belonged to. 

He took the next day to himself. He left before dawn, early enough that he could take off under cover of darkness, and flew deep into the Everglades, to a place no human would come across him. 

The water was brown, steeped with fallen mangrove leaves, and among the islands made of oyster shells he found a sandbar large enough to stretch out on. Unfortunately an eight-foot alligator had found it first. 

“Hello,” said Indrid. He knew the alligator couldn’t understand him, but politeness made him feel better. “If you would be so kind as to move over, there would be room for both of us…?”

The alligator did not move. It was not accustomed to acknowledging human-sounded voices. So Indrid made a noise that did not sound human, a chittering hiss from one cold-blooded beast to another. 

The alligator opened its eyes. An eight-foot alligator had little to fear, but it hadn’t  _ always  _ been that size, and hopefully it would recognize in Indrid the shorebirds it’d fled when it was a hatchling, the larger alligators that would have happily cannibalized it until it got big enough to fight back. 

Whip-fast, the alligator slithered off the sandbar and into the water, leaving behind only the marks of its tail in the sand. 

Indrid lay down on his front on the sand, cheek resting on his upper set of arms, and spread his wings out with a sigh. His black feathers soaked up the sun. He didn’t like being feared, not generally, but for alligators he made an exception. 


	2. Chapter 2

On the second day of his vacation Duck started down the same street, hoping to thank Indrid for the restaurant recommendation, if he was there. He also just wanted to see him again, wanted to learn every one of his strange smiles. But the shop was dark, a handwritten sign taped onto the inside of the door reading CLOSED TODAY with a cartoon smiley face wearing sunglasses and looking rather apologetic. Through the window Duck could see the glow of the drink case with its locally-made eggnog, and he turned away disappointed.

On the third day the store was open again. Indrid was wearing a very worn green zip-up hooded sweatshirt open over a shirt that Duck recognized from the windows of one of the other shops on the street, a shirt that read I’M NOT GAY BUT $20 IS $20. But someone had crossed out NOT and BUT $20 IS $20 in black Sharpie, so now the shirt just read I’M GAY. “Good to see you again, Duck,” he said when Duck entered.

“I missed you yesterday,” said Duck.

“I was sunbathing. Not around here, I always go farther down the coast.” Indrid tilted his head like he might be winking, if his eyes weren’t covered. “To protect my modesty, you know.”

“I hope you used sunscreen.” 

Indrid laughed. “Don’t worry, I did.” 

Duck’s gaze hit on the shelf above Indrid’s head, which displayed what he’d thought had been a collection of abstract sculptures, each about six inches high. On second look, however, it was clear that they each depicted a pair of figures doing something obscene.

“It’s such a nice day today, too, I was thinking about taking this afternoon off as well,” Indrid mused.

It took Duck a moment to see the opening Indrid had given him. “I was, uh, I was thinking about going for a dip, if you wanted to join me.” He held up the bag containing his towel and sunscreen.

“I’d love to!” Indrid closed the cash register and corralled the colored pencils scattered across the counter back into their cup. “Give me a minute to change and I’ll meet you on the sidewalk?”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Duck waited outside, watching the people passing by, until Indrid emerged again from the shop and locked the door behind him. He’d changed into a rash guard and swim trunks patterned with colorful butterflies, and was holding a beach towel and a bottle of high-SPF sunscreen. “Shall we?”

They walked together down the street to the beach, and then a little ways along the shore. The tide was high, which Duck was a little disappointed about - he liked looking at the sea life. “Is here good?” Indrid said when they found a patch of sand that was relatively free of debris.

“I trust your judgement as a local.”

“Alright, then.” Indrid sat cross-legged on his towel, squeezed a glob of sunscreen out on his hand, and started smearing it onto his face and legs. Duck pulled his own shirt off, and was relieved when Indrid’s appreciative gaze slid over his chest without lingering on his scars. 

“Want me to do your back?” said Indrid.

“Sure.” Duck passed Indrid his bottle of sunscreen and turned around. “Thanks.”

“Where’s home for you?” Indrid said as he massaged sunscreen into Duck’s shoulders.

“West Virginia,” said Duck. “Not as glamorous as the beach life, I know.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The mountains are gorgeous there.”

“You’ve been?” Duck looked around to see Indrid nod. 

“A long time ago.”

“I’m a park ranger. In Monongahela.”

“I can imagine that.” He finished putting sunscreen on Duck’s lower back and handed back the bottle. “You do seem very rugged.” He sprang to his feet and offered a hand to pull Duck up as well. Duck took it gingerly, reluctant to expect Indrid to support any significant portion of his weight, but apparently Indrid was not quite as willowy as he looked.

The water was not too chilly, but still a pleasant contrast to the sweltering air when Duck waded in. He heard a little  _ eep  _ noise from behind him, and turned around. Indrid was only in up to his ankles, and still he flinched every time a wave washed against his calves. 

Duck couldn’t help but laugh. “You live on the beach and don’t like the water?”

“I don’t  _ not  _ like it,” Indrid protested. “And I know humans are waterproof, but it still makes me a little nervous. And it’s cold.”

“At first, yeah.”

“Alright.” Indrid visibly steeled himself, then splashed forward, past Duck, until he was in up to his waist. He skimmed the surface of the water with his fingertips. “It does feel nice.”

Duck followed him out, enjoying the feeling of wet sand between his toes, and they stood there for a while looking out at the ocean. Then Indrid flicked a little bit of water at him.

“Start a splash fight if you want,” Duck warned, “but I’ll be the one to finish it.”

Indrid grinned. “I’ll take it.”

Duck shoved a wall of water towards him. All the techniques he’d learned playing in hotel pools with Jane came back quickly, and five minutes later they were both soaked. “Hey, Indrid?”

Indrid’s hair was slicked to the back of his neck, water beaded on the lenses of his glasses, and he was grinning like a maniac. “Hm?”

“Let me buy you dinner?”

Indrid laughed, slung his arms around Duck’s neck. “Is that how you proposition people up in West Virginia?”

Duck sputtered, blushing, Indrid’s narrow body pressed to his. “I don’t - I don’t  _ just  _ want to -”

“I’m just teasing, I’d be delighted. How long are you in town for?”

“A week total. I’m flying home on Sunday.”

Indrid nodded. “Perfect time for a vacation fling.” He looked down at Duck with his head slightly tilted.

Duck looked around. Nobody else seemed to be paying attention to them. “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d like that.” Indrid bent his head to meet Duck’s lips. Duck opened his mouth into it, tasting salt and warmth.

“And I bet you know all the best date spots around here,” Duck said when they broke apart.

“I’d be happy to show them to you.”

Duck pulled back a little to look at him, still not quite believing his luck that this was really happening. The sun was setting, now, and the air was not as warm as it’d been. “Fuck, you’re shivering.”

Indrid rubbed his arms. “I tend to run cold. It’s why I moved to Florida, actually.”

Duck interlaced his fingers with Indrid’s under the water. “Pretty sure Amnesty Lodge has a hot tub out back if you want to warm up there.”

Indrid shivered. “That sounds delightful.”

Duck squeezed his hand, released it, and they walked together back up the beach to where they’d left their stuff. Duck shook the sand out of his towel and used it to dry his hair and upper body. They washed their feet and calves of sand with the spigot where the sidewalk began and put their shoes on.

“Is this the kind of town where two guys can hold hands?” Duck said.

Indrid nodded. “We wouldn’t be harassed.”

“In that case.” Duck held out his hand, and Indrid took it. 

They walked hand-in-hand to Amnesty Lodge. Duck thought he felt more lingering gazes than he was used to from the people they passed, but maybe that was just because Indrid was so unusual-looking. In any case, Indrid didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, and so Duck decided it didn’t matter whether people felt like staring. 

“Hey, Barclay!” called Indrid when they got into the lobby of Amnesty Lodge. Only two other people were there, the bartender deep in conversation with a handsome tourist.

“Hello, Indrid!” called the bartender over his shoulder without really looking around. 

“Now  _ he  _ is the king of the vacation fling,” Indrid murmured into Duck’s ear.

Duck swiped his room key to open the door to the back patio. The hot tub area was empty, the water chlorine-blue and steaming. Duck pushed the button to start the jets. Indrid shucked his flip-flops off and climbed in, sinking immediately to his neck. “Ahhh.”

It was really starting to get dark now, with only the light coming out of the hotel and the bulbs at the bottom of the hot tub shining through the foam, and Indrid’s sunglasses were rapidly fogging up, but still he made no move to remove them. “You really don’t take those sunglasses off, do you?” said Duck as he sat down next to Indrid.

Indrid shook his head. “I just feel… safer, with them on.”

Duck nodded, and did not press further. 

“You don’t… mind, do you?”

“Course not. Don’t need to see your eyes to know you’re the nicest-looking man I’ve seen in a while.”

“Oh, you charmer.” Indrid smiled. “Can I sit on your lap and kiss you?”

“Hell yeah you can.”

Indrid straddled Duck’s lap, tilted his chin gently up, and kissed him, open-mouthed, sweet and unhurried. 

Duck gripped Indrid’s hips, pulled him closer. “Can I feel you up?”

“Yes, though I warn you I’m a little… excitable, and my dick is often more gung-ho than my head is.”

“That’s no problem.” He kissed Indrid’s cheek and felt Indrid’s hands tighten in his hair. “Just let me know what you’re comfortable with.”

“Ohh, yes, thank you thankyou,” Indrid broke into whimpers as Duck’s hands pressed up his chest, over his shirt. The lights beneath the surface cast rippling shadows across Indrid’s skin, making him look almost ghostly. Duck kept his hands above the belt, even as he could see Indrid hardening in his swim trunks.

Indrid took Duck’s face in his hands and kissed almost reverently up his jaw, which might be the most romantic thing anyone had ever done to him, especially since it was with someone he’d never see again after this week. Duck could see how having a time limit would take a lot of the stress out of a relationship.

Indrid kissed him one last time and then slid off his lap to sit on the bench again, leaning against Duck’s side. “I should be getting home,” he said. “But this was fun.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. You think you’ll be down to hang out some more tomorrow?”

Indrid grinned. “If you’d like. You do know where to find me.”

\--

On the way home Indrid paid eight dollars for a bad hot dog from a food vendor and wolfed it down as he walked.  _ So this is what the love of your life feels like,  _ he thought as he licked the ketchup off his fingers. And fitting, for Indrid, with the luck he’d had, that the love of his life would be someone he could only be with for a week. At least the odds were good that it would be a very pleasant week. 

He let himself into the store and locked the door behind him, then took the back stairs two-at-a-time into his apartment, which was a disaster area of empty eggnog mugs and discarded sketches. 

Hearing Duck’s breath hitch when he kissed him had been something like heaven. And Duck had been so good to him, his hands resting so gently on Indrid’s hips, not pushing. Normally Indrid had to worry about how his body was reacting, what kind of message it was sending to his partner. But Duck just kissed him as he was. Indrid wanted to keep kissing him forever.

But he was glad, actually, that Duck would be gone in a week. They wouldn’t have to have a breakup, not ever, because Duck would just leave, the way they’d both always known he would. Because as patient as Duck had been, he’d get sick of Indrid eventually. People always did, because even when he managed to keep his greatest abnormality concealed, there was always the surface-level weirdness to contend with, the getting ahead of people and fidgeting and strange smiles. 

He needed to clean his apartment, so he could have Duck over, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight Indrid just crawled into bed and lay there under the covers tasting the ghost of true love’s kiss until he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The last storm of the Atlantic hurricane season was forecasted to pass in between Florida and Cuba, but the beach was still going to get hit with a lot of rain that night, so Duck walked over to the Cold Emporium intending to ask Indrid if he’d be interested in weathering the storm together, watching movies. 

Instead he found Indrid bouncing up and down on his heels on the sidewalk outside the store, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Excellent,” he said when Duck approached. “We need to get inland.”

“What?”

“The hurricane.” 

“It’s not supposed to hit here that hard.”

“Indeed it is not supposed to, but I promise you it will.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

Indrid paused. “Call it a local’s instinct.”

“That’s not how the weather works!”

“Please, Duck. I am very, very sure that we’re going to have to evacuate anyway, and it’ll be significantly more pleasant if we do it sooner rather than later.”

“Are you insane!?”

Indrid took a step backward, clearly hurt, and at that moment, Duck’s phone, and the phones of everyone else on the street, blared a warning tone. 

_ SOUTH OF TAMPA UNDER MANDATORY EVACUATION ORDER _

“Oh,” said Duck.

Indrid threw his hands up. “I told you so. I literally fucking told you so.”

Duck turned around and started walking back towards Amnesty Lodge. His car was parked there, and if he was going to evacuate he needed to pack.

Indrid jogged after him. “So where are we at on you letting me come with you? Because I don’t actually own a car and so if I need to make other arrangements I’d like to know as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, sure, what the hell, you can come with me.”

Duck left Indrid in the lobby of the Amnesty Lodge to throw what he could into his suitcase, and when he returned he found Indrid talking with Barclay at the front desk, though they both went silent as Duck approached.

“Do you need a ride, too?” Duck said to Barclay.

Barclay shook his head. “I’m good, but thanks.”

West Virginia didn’t get hurricanes, and so as Duck drove, he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. He imagined spinning out of control on a rain-slicked highway, huge tidal waves sweeping the car into the ocean like a bathtub toy, the sky darkening with thick clouds like Ragnarok. But for now the sky was blue, Spanish moss swaying gently from the trees, billboards advertising LIVE BABY GATORS. 

“I’m sorry for calling you insane,” said Duck finally.

Indrid shook his head. “I know how I come off.”

Duck struggled to put what he was thinking into words. “There’s - there’s nothing - I shouldn’t talk about mental illness that way in general. And I’m all for neurodiversity, really, I - I’m sorry.” He knew he sounded awkward as hell, but hopefully it was still better than nothing. 

Indrid was looking at him, now, so intently Duck could sense it even through the glasses, and he tightened his hands on the steering wheel, wishing he could meet Indrid’s gaze but unable to look away from the road. 

“Thank you,” said Indrid quietly, and for a while they said no more.

It took them three hours, much of which was spent in heavy traffic, to get far enough inland and find a hotel that didn’t have a NO VACANCY sign up. “Thank you for the ride,” said Indrid as they pulled into the parking lot. “I’ll pay for the room.” Duck was silently relieved - this place looked significantly fancier than anywhere he’d ever choose to stay.

The parking lot was mostly full, presumably other people fleeing the hurricane, but Duck found a spot and got their luggage out of the trunk. Indrid hauled his bag over his shoulder and led the way into the lobby, where he put his credit card down on the front desk. “We’d like a room with two beds, please.”

The person behind the counter grimaced apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir, but we only have one-bed rooms left, unfortunately, so many people are coming with their families…” And indeed, there were two families in line behind them already, looking anxious.

Indrid looked at Duck, looked back at the employee, and sighed. “Fine. Whatever you have left.”

The employee swiped Indrid’s card and handed it back along with an envelope of room keys. And then Duck was standing in silence in an elevator whose walls were supposed to look like marble with a man whose eyes he’d never seen, hoping to wait out a hurricane. This was, quite possibly, the weirdest day of his entire life. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Juno.  _ R u ok???  _ she’d messaged.  _ I saw there’s a hurricane? _

_ Yes,  _ Duck texted back as he followed Indrid down the hall.  _ Found a hotel inland to stay at.  _

_ A vacation within a vacation!  _ was the response.

Indrid swiped the room key and the door clicked obediently open. They dragged their suitcases inside and Duck flipped on the lights, revealing a palatial room with gauzy curtains on the windows and a writing desk and a couple of plush chairs, and, indeed, only one bed, though it seemed large enough for three people, at least.

“Well, it’s better than sleeping in the car,” said Indrid mildly as the door swung shut behind them.

“I’ll fucking say.” Duck kicked his suitcase over onto the floor. “We’re safe.” 

Indrid wetted his lips thoughtfully, looking around the room, and impulsively Duck lunged forward and kissed him. Indrid stiffened in his arms and Duck let go. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that was -”

But Indrid, smiling, caught his wrist and held it. “I do understand that it’s considered polite to  _ ask  _ first, but -”

At that moment the heavens opened up. Rain pounded on the window, the storm begging to be let in and allowed to wash the world clean, so loud Indrid stopped in the middle of his sentence. He dropped Duck’s hand and went to the window to look. 

Duck watched him go, and then went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. It was fancy in here, too, with a line of different soaps on the counter and washcloths folded into fans. The mirror was pristinely unsmudged, and the lights above it were so bright Duck could see every tiny line on his face, every imperfection and pore, the puffiness of the dark bags under his eyes. He looked  _ old,  _ and it surprised him. 

When he came out again the curtains were closed and Indrid was stretched out on the bed, reading a paperback that looked like he might have found it abandoned on the beach. “We can order room service if you’d like, or just eat out of the minibar,” Indrid said without looking up.

Duck examined the minibar, which was full of overpriced snacks and tiny bottles of alcohol, and selected a six-dollar pack of M&Ms. “I’ll just eat this stuff, I’m not that hungry.” It occurred to him now that Indrid might be rich, like  _ rich- _ rich, to be able to close his place of business for the afternoon whenever he felt like it and unblinkingly drop hundreds of dollars on a hotel room.

“I’m going to put my pajamas on,” Indrid announced, and put his book on the bedside table. He dug in his bag and then went into the bathroom. When he came out he was wearing sweatpants and a very thin white tank top, along with the same red sunglasses as always. Duck had sort of expected there to be some  _ reason  _ Indrid had never before shown his arms above the wrists, scars or a birthmark or something, but there was nothing. 

“Is now a good time to say I didn’t bring pajamas?” Duck said. “I usually sleep naked.”

“Oh, woe is me,” Indrid sighed, and climbed back into bed. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, there’s definitely enough pillows here to construct some kind of barrier between us.”

Duck sat in one of the plush chairs and scrolled through Twitter, watching clips of palm trees whipped back and forth by the wind and some poor newscaster standing out in the hurricane warning everyone to evacuate if they could. 

Every so often the sound of shouting came through the wall from the rooms on either side. “Well, at least there’s somebody having a worse night than you are,” Indrid commented after a particularly audible line about someone else’s sister.

Duck looked up. “I don’t know, I’m alone in a hotel room with a strange man, I’m having the time of my life.”

“That makes it sound like I’m going to try something.” For a moment they just looked at each other. “I can, if you’d like.”

“I thought I already made my position clear.” Made it pretty goddamn clear by kissing him and now looking him up and down like he was an ice cream ready to be licked.

“Oh we’re talking  _ positions  _ now, are we?” Indrid inclined his head. “Are you going to come over here, then, or am I going to have to come get you?”

Duck threw his phone aside, got to his feet, and started taking his clothes off. He could feel Indrid’s gaze on him as he bent over to get his pants off. Finally he was naked and knelt on the foot of the bed.

“I meant  _ in  _ bed,” Indrid clarified, and Duck crawled up towards him. When he was under the covers Indrid cuddled up next to him, arms around Duck’s chest. “Mmm, thank you, you’re so nice and warm.”

Duck breathed in the citrusy smell of Indrid’s hair, but when Indrid didn’t seem about to go further, Duck couldn’t stop thinking about the face he’d seen in the mirror. “Do I look old to you?” he said finally.

“You’re asking me a question without a correct answer.”

Duck laughed. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“You don’t look like you’re twenty, if that’s what you’re asking. But I suspect if you considered looking twenty to be the ideal, you would not be in bed with me. I certainly don’t.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“You can do a lot more than that, if you’d like,” said Indrid, and tilted his face up to meet Duck’s lips. 

The storm hammered at the windows, and voices wormed through the walls, but more than that there was Indrid’s breath coming in gasps and his hands grasping at Duck’s shoulders as he kissed him. Eventually Indrid sat up just enough to pull off his shirt and then lay back down, pressed up against Duck under the blankets.

Duck trailed his fingers experimentally down Indrid’s side and felt his hips twitch. “Do you want -?”

“Yes please,” said Indrid, and kissed Duck again. His chest turned out to be just as sensitive as Duck had guessed while feeling him up in the hot tub, and this close together Duck could feel his cock jump when he licked experimentally across one of his nipples.

Indrid gasped, hard. “Oh fuck yes please do that again.” When both of his nipples were teased red and shiny with spit Indrid pulled Duck’s head up by the hair to keep kissing him. “How should I touch you?” Indrid said.

“Just don’t stick your fingers in me and we’re good.”

“Alright.” Indrid rubbed across Duck’s clit in such a way his thighs clamped closed around Indrid’s hand.

“Fuck, that’s good, keep doing that,  _ fuck -”  _ Duck fumbled at the waistband of Indrid’s sweatpants. “Take your pants off, please?”

Indrid made a valiant attempt to get his pants off without taking his other hand off Duck, and with Duck’s help he eventually got them low enough for Duck to take hold of him.  _ “Duck,”  _ he whimpered when Duck’s thumb brushed over the head of his cock, and oh, Duck wanted to hear him say his name like that again. 

Indrid was already leaking, and Duck wondered vaguely if he could cum just from having his nipples played with, and  _ oh  _ that was a thought. “You’re so worked up already,” Duck teased. “Are you going to cum all over yourself just from my hand?”

“If you keep touching me like that I will,” said Indrid, but he seemed determined to get Duck off first, shifting to get a better angle and knocking Duck’s hand away from his own cock. “Oh,  _ Duck, _ ” Indrid said, pressing wet kisses to his slack mouth. “You’re so handsome like this, so perfect, please won’t you cum for me?”

Duck’s blunt nails dug into Indrid’s skin as his orgasm washed over him. He felt light-headed and floaty from the force of it, had to make himself remember what he was supposed to be doing right now.

Three strokes of Duck’s hand and Indrid finished too. “Thank you thank you thank you,” Indrid said, and with the hand that wasn’t covered in slick groped for Duck’s and held it tight. 

Slowly, Indrid pulled his sweatpants back up over his hips. The rushing of blood in Duck’s ears quieted, and once again he heard rain, and his and Indrid’s even breathing. Indrid leaned off the bed and collected his shirt from the floor, used it to wipe the cum off his chest and the slick off his fingers, and offered it awkwardly to Duck, who laughed and used a clean corner to wipe the wetness from between his legs as well. Then Indrid got up, legs shaky, and tossed the shirt into his suitcase before climbing back into bed. 

“You good?” said Duck.

“Yes,” Indrid replied. “I’d really just like to cuddle, if that’s alright.”

“Of course.” Duck held out his arms and Indrid lay down on top of him, holding him like the hurricane might rip him away. The edges of Indrid’s sunglasses pressed into Duck’s flesh. He still hadn’t seen Indrid’s eyes. “What are you thinking about?” Duck said quietly.

Indrid’s sunglasses were as opaque and unreadable as the eyes of an insect, but his smile was entirely human. “I’m thinking about you, Duck.”

They fell asleep like that, and drove back to the beach the next morning. The hurricane hadn’t done any real damage after all, just some shingles off roofs. Duck dropped Indrid off with a kiss goodbye in front of the Cold Emporium, and then returned to Amnesty Lodge, where he sat on his balcony, looking out at the ocean. The hurricane had washed debris high up onto the sand, huge pieces of driftwood and wads of damp seaweed, but now the waves lapped innocently at the shore, as though they would never dream of anything so untoward. 

Duck spent much of the last few days of his vacation with Indrid. They ate ice cream cones together and fucked in the backroom of the store after closing, and Indrid even went along on a day trip to a bird sanctuary and listened to Duck gush about the roseate spoonbill.

On the last evening before Duck flew home he watched Indrid wash the front window of the store clean and paint a new mural, this time of pine trees. “In honor of West Virginia,” Indrid said, squirting green paint onto his palette. Duck was surprised how quickly Indrid worked, as though the image in his head would disappear if he didn’t capture it. Pine trees sprung to life on the glass, then a red and yellow sunset shining through them.

Indrid paused, looked casually over his shoulder at Duck. “Should I put the mothman in?”

Duck shrugged. “You’re the artist.”

“Do you have strong feelings about him, as a West Virginian?”

“Not really. I mean, he’s good for tourism, but I’ve never met the guy, so I couldn’t tell you any more than that.”

Indrid hummed thoughtfully, and in deft strokes outlined a set of dark wings.


	4. Chapter 4

And the next morning Duck flew home, and he thought that would be the end of it. Except he couldn’t stop thinking about Indrid. He thought of him every time he looked in his wallet and saw that two-dollar bill, which he neither spent nor removed. And when he finally finished the model boat he’d bought the first day they met, took a picture, and wished he could send it to him.

Duck’s normal habit was to take one week of vacation a year, and he’d never been to the same place twice. There were too many national parks just in the United States. But now, for the second year in the row, he booked a flight to Florida, and a room at the Amnesty Lodge.

As he drove through the resort town on the way to Amnesty Lodge he noticed that many of the facades had changed from the year before: beachside souvenir shops, apparently, didn’t have a long shelf life. But the pride flag was still waving outside the Cold Emporium, the windows painted to look like a coral reef, colorful fish of all shapes and sizes. Duck’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the beach he was coming back for. 

He pulled into the parking lot of the Amnesty Lodge, checked in, and hauled his luggage to his room with his heart pounding. Without even sitting down he went out again and half-jogged down the sidewalk, past the other hotels, and then he was yanking open that glass door with the equality sticker on it and the bell was ringing and Indrid was  _ there,  _ sitting on his stool behind the counter in a neon-pink sweatshirt with a sketchbook in his lap. He looked up and broke into a smile. “Duck!”

“Indrid!” Duck laughed, realizing he had no idea what to do next. Indrid looked just how he remembered, glasses and well-defined cheekbones. “I - I’m surprised you remember me.”

“Of course I remember you, Duck.” Indrid put his sketchbook down and came out from behind the counter. “You drove me out of the way of a hurricane.”

“For all I know you have a new vacation fling every week,” said Duck teasingly.

Indrid leaned down to hug him tight. “Nope. Just you.”

Duck hugged back, and he was laughing again, so happy to be here, so happy to have Indrid in his arms, he actually picked him up and spun him around, and Indrid was laughing too. The light of the sun was pink and blue filtered through the painted window and Indrid cupped Duck’s face in his hands. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

It was like he’d never been gone. He grabbed at Indrid’s sweatshirt, and Indrid pulled back and rested his forehead against Duck’s. “How about I close the store, and we go upstairs, and I suck your dick?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Indrid flipped the sign hanging in the window to CLOSED and turned the lock on the door. Then he took Duck by the hand and pulled him back past the tacky souvenirs. 

Duck had never actually been up to Indrid’s apartment before. The staircase was dark and narrow and wooden, and opened into a living room where every flat surface was covered in discarded pages. Indrid kicked his shoes off, and Duck followed his example. 

The bedroom was tiny, just enough room for a narrow bed and a dresser, lit by a window looking out over the street. Indrid pressed him back into the bed and kissed him some more, then slid down to lie between his legs. Duck turned his head and breathed in the smell of Indrid off the pillows - fuck, he’d missed this. He lifted his hips so Indrid could tug his pants off. “Will you take your shirt off?” Indrid said. “I want to see all of you.”

“Demanding,” Duck teased, and sat up to oblige.

“What can I say? I’m feeling lucky.” Indrid kissed up each of Duck’s inner thighs in turn. “I missed you so much.”

Duck tugged at his hair. “Missed you too, sugar.” Indrid’s tongue was hot and wet and perfect against his dick. There was so much he wanted to do, couldn’t believe he only had a week to do it in. “And I, uh, I packed a strap-on, so if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Yes,” said Indrid. “Want you to fuck me so bad.”

Duck must have been more pent-up than he thought, because one minute he was watching Indrid hump the bed, and the next his eyes were closed and he was coming, thighs tight around Indrid’s shoulders. For a moment Indrid rested his cheek against Duck’s thigh, breathing hard. Then he pulled back, and Duck was already thinking about returning the favor, but Indrid stood up.

“I need to change my pants.”

“You  _ came?”  _ Duck asked incredulously. Indrid was already turning pink. “No, no, don’t be embarrassed, that’s hot as hell!” How the fuck was this man not married already?

Indrid peeled his pants and underwear off and threw them into the hamper. “I was  _ very  _ excited to see you again.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Indrid crawled back onto the bed, into Duck’s arms, and pressed his face against Duck’s neck. “How long have we got this time?” Indrid whispered. “A week, again?”

“Yeah, I have to go back to Kepler in a week, but as for  _ us… _ ” Duck took a deep breath. “Is forever long enough for you?”

He couldn’t see Indrid’s face, but he could feel him smile. “I could make do with forever.”

They lay there for a while in silence, listening to the noise of the street outside. Underneath the sound of the crowd, Duck could hear the waves.

“Wanna know the weirdest thing about me?” said Indrid. His voice was light, but Duck could tell he was nervous.

“Sure?”

Indrid stood up. His bare legs looked thin and birdlike under the bulk of his sweatshirt. He went to the window and lowered the blinds, stepped back in the gray slatted light, and removed his glasses.

The eyes beneath the glasses were red. But Duck didn’t have time to process that, because now the goose pimples the brisk sea air raised on Indrid’s bare skin erupted into feathers, his shoulders warped into wings, the skin on his middle rippled and stretched into a second pair of arms, and his red eyes got bigger and blurrier until they were only featureless light. 

Mothman.

“So I was lying when I told you I used sunscreen,” Indrid said mildly. 

“I don’t suppose you’d get sunburned like this anyway,” said Duck. He felt lightheaded. “You’re the mothman.”

“That is not the name I prefer, but yes.” He stretched his wings, as broad as the room itself. “If you’re going to run screaming, now would be the time.”

“I’m not.” Duck sat up to get a better look at him. “Can’t believe I’ve spent all this time raving about the roseate spoonbill when the prettiest thing with feathers was right in front of me.”

“I did get a little jealous when you were going on about its gorgeous wings,” Indrid admitted. His smile was more at home on this face than his human one. 

“So what does this mean, for, uh, for us?”

“Ideally not much. I just figured you should know, if you truly want to be with me.” Indrid put his glasses back on, and the neon sweatshirt returned. “Can we keep cuddling?”

“Of course.” 

Indrid got back onto the bed and Duck pulled him close. “I, uh, I had a consultation for phallo last month, and I scheduled the actual surgery for pretty soon after I get back to Kepler. So that’s exciting.”

“Congratulations!” said Indrid.

“And I, uh - do you remember that model ship I bought from you?”

“I do.”

“I put it together!” Duck located his phone and scrolled through pictures, turned it around to show Indrid one of him posing with the ship. 

“Good job,” said Indrid. “And is this you in your ranger uniform? You look so handsome and in-charge.”

“You’ll have to come to Kepler sometime, if you want to see me in it in person.”

Indrid pressed a kiss to Duck’s jaw. “That can certainly be arranged.”

They lay like that for a long time. Then, when the tide was low, they put their clothes back on and walked down the beach together, holding hands, over the sand that was usually covered by sea. There were sea stars and sand dollars, and clumps of seaweed like squishy red tinsel, and seagulls; but  _ fancy  _ seagulls, different from the seagulls you got at trash dumps in West Virginia. 

There was even a tiny hermit crab crawling across the sand, and Duck crouched down to look at it, and Indrid, already looking at the love of his life, crouched down to listen. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! hit me up on tumblr @bellafarallones


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